“I have now been three years in the old gentleman’s employ, and a generous good master he has been: and his daughter is a sweet pretty girl. I lost my last vessel, but not until she had cleared him 10,000 pounds; and now the old gentleman is building me another at Havre. Not to be quite idle, I have in the meantime taken command of one of their sloops: for the old gentleman has a good many shares in the speculation, and his recommendations are always attended to.
“Voici, Monsieur Beaujou, avec les habits,” said the maître d’auberge opening the door and ushering in the marchand des modes maritimes, with a huge bundle.
“Now, then, boy, rouse out,” said McElvina, shaking our hero for a long while, without any symptoms of recovering him from his lethargy.
“Try him on the other tack,” said the captain, lifting him off the sofa, and placing him upright on his legs.
“There’s no sugar in it yet,” said Willy, who was dreaming that he was supplying the mulled claret to the old master’s mate.
“Ah,” said Debriseau, laughing, “he thinks his mamma is giving him his tea.”
“The lying little rascal told me this morning that he had no mother. Come, Mr William Seymour, I believe” (mimicking) — “officer, I believe — Oh, you’re a nice honest boy. Have you a mother, or do you tell fibs in your sleep as well as awake? ‘Be honest.’”
The last words that Willy had heard repeated so often during the day not only unsealed his eyes, but recalled to his recollection where he was.
“Now, my youngster, let us rig you out; you recollect you stated that you were going home for your outfit, and now I’ll give you one, that you may have one fib less on your conscience.”
By the generosity of McElvina, Willy was soon fitted with two suits of clothes, requiring little alteration, and Mr Beaujou, having received a further order for a supply of shirts, and other articles necessary to complete, made his bow and disappeared.
The two captains resumed their chairs, and our hero again coiled himself on the sofa, and in one minute was as sound asleep as before.
“And now, McElvina,” resumed Debriseau, “I should like to know by what arguments your employer contrived to reconcile your present vocation with your punctilious regard for honesty? For I must confess, for my own part, that although I have followed smuggling as a livelihood, I have never defended it as an honest calling, and have looked forward with occasional impatience to the time when I should be able to leave it off.”
“Defend it! Why I’ll just repeat to you the arguments used by the old gentleman. They convinced me. As I said before, I am always open to conviction. Captain Debriseau, you will acknowledge, I trust, that laws are made for the benefit of all parties, high and low, rich and poor?”
“Granted.”
“You’ll allow also, that law-makers should not be lawbreakers; and that if they are so, they cannot expect that others will regard what they disregard themselves.”
“Granted also.”
“Once more — by the laws of our country, the receiver is as bad as the thief, and they who instigate others to commit an offence are equally guilty with the offending party.”
“It cannot be denied,” replied Debriseau.
“Then you have acceded to all the propositions that I wish, and we shall come to an undeniable and mathematical conclusion. Observe, law-makers should not be law-breakers. Who enacted these laws? — the aristocracy of the nation, seated in their respective houses, the Lords and the Commons. Go, any night you please, to the Opera, or any other place of public resort, in which you can have a view of their wives and daughter. I’ll stake my existence that every female there shall be disened out in some contraband article of dress — not one but shall prove to be a receiver of smuggled goods, and, therefore, as bad as those whom they have instigated to infringe the laws of their country. If there were no demand there would be no supply.”
“Surely they don’t all drink gin?” replied Debriseau.
“Drink gin! You’re thinking of your damned Cherbourg trade, — your ideas are confined. Is there nothing smuggled besides gin? Now, if the husbands and fathers of these ladies, — those who have themselves enacted the laws, — wink at their infringement, why should not others do so? The only distinction between the equally offending parties is, that those who are in power, — who possess all the comforts and luxuries which this world can afford, — who offend the laws from vanity and caprice, and entice the needy to administer to their love of display, are protected and unpunished; while the adventurous seaman, whose means of supporting his family depend upon his administering to their wishes, or the poor devil who is unfortunately detected with a gallon of spirits, is thrown into gaol as if he were a felon. There cannot be one law for the rich and another for the poor, Debriseau. When I hear that the wives of the aristocracy have been seized by the revenue officers, and the contraband articles which they wear have been taken off their backs, and that they have been sentenced to twelve months’ imprisonment, by a committal from the magistrate, then — and not till then — will I acknowledge our profession to be dishonest.”
“Very true,” said Debriseau; “it shows the folly of men attempting to make laws for their masters.”
“Is it not shocking,” continued McElvina, “to reflect upon the conduct of the magistrate, who has just sentenced perhaps four or five unhappy wretches to a dungeon for an offence against these laws? He leaves the seat of Justice, and returns to the bosom of his family. Here his wife,” (mimicking) — “‘Well, my dear, you’re come at last — dinner has been put back this half-hour. I thought you would never have finished with those odious smugglers.’ ‘Why, my love, it was a very difficult case to prove; but we managed it at last, and I have signed the warrant for their committal to the county gaol. They’re sad, troublesome fellows, these smugglers.’ — Now look at the lady: ‘What dress is that you put on to greet your husband?’ ‘Gros de Naples de Lyon.’ — ‘The lace it is trimmed with?’ ‘Valenciennes,’ — ‘Your gloves, madam?’ ‘Fabrique de Paris.’ — ‘Your ribands, your shoes, your handkerchief?’ All, all contraband. — Worthy magistrate, if you would hold the scales of Justice with an even hand, make out one more mittimus before you sit down to table. Send your wife to languish a twelvemonth in company with the poor smugglers, and then ‘to dinner with what appetite you may.’ And now, Debriseau, have I convinced you that I may follow my present calling, and still say — ‘be honest?’”
“Why, yes, I think we both may; but would not this evil be removed by free trade?”
“Heaven forbid!” replied McElvina, laughing; “then there would be no smuggling.”
Chapter Twelve.
Love me, love my dog.
It is the misfortune of those who have been in constant habits of deceit that they always imagine others are attempting the same dishonest practices. For some time McElvina felt convinced that our little hero had swerved from truth in the account which he gave of himself; and it was not until after repeated catechisings, in which he found that, strange and improbable as the narrative appeared, Willy never altered from or contradicted his original statement, that he believed the boy to be as honest